It's been an interesting couple of weeks to say the least. Or, as many people say these days "Are your kidding me?" What I didn't tell you last time was that I had a regularly scheduled mammogram on Thursday, August 4th, the day after my final chemo. I got the good news about the colon screening the day before so I was positive and poised to receive another 'all clear'. On the Tuesday following, I received a call from Hotel Dieu that 'something' showed up on the mammogram and they wanted me back for a second one, along with an ultrasound. With my imagination in rapid overdrive, I was mentally turning the light at the end of the tunnel into a high speed freight train aiming straight in my direction. This morning we saw my family doctor who was able to give a more accurate picture. The freight train was actually a flashlight poking along to see if there might be something ahead and the mammogram simply reflected a cyst that was 'probably benign' and they would simply follow it with a mammogram in six months. And the cyst is 19mm!! Imagine that after dealing with a mass in my liver that was 20cm by about 15 cm.
Between the followup mammogram, the suggested bone scan, and other physical adjustments it's little wonder I'm so much more stiff and sore in my joints. I've been doing mental and emotional gymnastics that would surely garner a gold medal had there been such an Olympic sport. Not that 17 chemo treatments in 5 months would leave any residual and cumulative physical side effects! Not that there would be any physical release after months of having my body gearing up for a toxic assault on a weekly basis. Not that my body might need extra sleep to physically heal from the poison that is no longer a regular invader. After all, as per usual, I've been blessed to have skipped through each cycle without the typical dragged out, can't lift the head off the pillow feeling that many people suffer through.
You might be thinking 'well what's next'? That was the same question my family physician asked this morning. We reviewed what we know. There are follow up appointments tentatively scheduled for September - one with the symptom management team, one with my family doc which will include some routine blood results that have not been done for quite some time i.e. blood sugar, cholesterol etc., and one with the oncology team toward the end of September. A follow up mammogram in six months initiated by family doc's office. Other than that, we go on living every day just like everyone else. It's starting to hit home, how, we really need to live as though each day is our last. Sure, I have a more likely chance of heading off to meet my Maker sooner than others but I've already outlived several people who had no idea they'd be off to that all important meeting before me.
In a previous post I shared part of a story from a blog follower and email friend. In response to my last message I received feedback that, as usual, I found thought provoking, tagged with a dry sense of humour and wit. I hope you enjoy as much as I did:
"Not to be maudlin or anything but your comments regarding passing on to the other side caught my attention as I have also tried to put my life in perspective, and in order, in anticipation of the big moment. Considering that my wife, parents, siblings, best friends and family pets have all passed on (all wonderful souls) my faith allows me to not fear the best before date, but in fact believe that it will be a glorious event (notwithstanding some penalty box time, hopefully short, that I have no doubt accrued) "
The last couple of weeks have allowed me to get used to the reality that one day there won't be any more that can be done. Accepting this reality is helping me make some small progress in accepting God’s will for my life while remaining hopeful for whatever relief and respite He may be prepared to offer. After all, if I had the choice, would I want to know all of what's ahead in my life? No, I prefer not to worry about what’s around the next bend, and feel it's better that we don’t know. I'm fairly convinced we couldn't handle knowing and would be totally overwhelmed. Maybe that's why life is broken up into 24 hour periods. Sort of what the Bible says about not worrying. Focus on today as tomorrow has enough trouble of its own.
It's during these times of testing that we have to take a good hard look at what support systems we have, remind ourselves of the many people who may have reached out to us and offered assistance and the anchors in our lives that keep us from being tossed aimlessly out to sea during the storms of life. Needless to say, I believe my faith is the best anchor I could ask for and often wonder how others cope. I talk about my faith from my own perspective and respect others may have their own faith based on a different higher power. Whatever works for the individual is what's important.
Recently a friend reminded me of the saying ‘Let Go and Let God’ which of course we’ve all heard numerous times before. A mental image came to mind this last time though, of a white flag. What a great way to 'surrender' our lives to God and allow His plan to unfold as it will. Just wave the white flag.
As I close this message, I'd like to share my newest response to people asking how I am, which is “Praying and Playing Every Day”. After all, if we were to moan and groan every day that one day we're going to die, what kind of life would we have? On that note, let each of us take the days ahead as the best days of our lives. Let us stay open to what we're being called to do, no matter how small, we might be surprised at the ripple effect these actions can have.
Take care and God Bless,
Hugs
Liz
dobbsjones@gmail.com
'Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive'.
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